To the windmill

A classic British seaside holiday moment, this morning, Our holiday house sits in a large grassy garden, with a set of steps leading straight down to the beach. What luxury...

Adults: let's go down to the beach (wind howls in background).
Children: we want to go to the playroom.
Adults: but it's the beach! Fresh air! Sandcastles! Let's go...
Children: oh all right... (reluctantly).

Later:  a strong onshore wind sandblasts everybody. Gritty peanut butter sandwiches are eaten. Children variously hide under coats, grizzle etc. One intrepid adult swims briefly in the chilly waves.

Adults: right. We're going back up to the house.
Children: yay...!

Then we (adults) proposed a trip to one of the local sights that we all remember from past years, a restored windmill. By now the clouds are lifting, the sun's coming out, a feeling of summer is returning. On arrival, we discover that the simple 18th century windmill we all remember now has added attractions on the site: a woodland trail with animals to search for, two enormous Bronze Age roundhouses. This is all very well-designed and engrossing, and the kids tear around discovering it all together.  All of us climb the ladder-like steps to the very top of the windmill, including Euan (the two year old). There's info about the place here: https://melinllynon.co.uk/

It seems that the site, the staff and the mill itself have been rescued from possible financial disaster by diversifying into the production of chocolate and gin. How times change :-)

By the time we've come home and had lunch, the sun's out, the tide's low and everyone has a great time on the beach.